


Everything, but nothing at all

by silvervelour



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Minor Harassment, Singer jan, manager Jackie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour
Summary: Jan begins to record her album that winter and Jackie sits with her in the studio after hours, encourages Jan when she swears that there’s something missing.She knows that Jackie doesn’t understand what but she offers up suggestions like they’re candy and Jan lets herself enjoy the sweetness.Jackie lays back on the couch and Jan watches her from the booth.Her mouth mimics the way that Jackie sighs and the microphone picks up on it. It becomes what she had been unable to find and when Jackie shoots her a grin her album completes itself.
Relationships: Jan Sport/Jackie Cox
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Everything, but nothing at all

**Author's Note:**

> hi lovelies! I wanted to write this a bit differently to my usual stuff, so here we go! big thanks to charl for all of her help and full title credits to my girlfriend - thank u for being willing to shout ideas back and forth to each other<3

_“It’s just not working out”._

_“What do you mean?”._

_“We’re sorry”._

Jan gets signed to her first record label at eighteen but is dropped by the time she’s twenty.

She’s midway through college and she’s ashamed, devastated.

Half of her theatre class are already establishing careers and there’s a fear beating down on her that it will never be her. That she’ll never be playing gigs bigger than dive bars downtown or travelling to cities that she’s only ever seen on postcards, in flashes of hope.

The mirror in her bathroom is too detailed but it doesn’t stop her scrutinising herself in it.

She wonders if the browns of her eyes are too boring to ever be written about in magazines, ponders if the fate lines on her palms are too jagged to bring her success.

Her friends are there to pull her back down to earth when she feels like she might float away in the disappointment and she’s grateful for it at first.

They get drunk on a menial Wednesday in her dorm room and Nicky reassures her that she’s young, is yet to fully bloom in the ways that she’s able to picture. A full garden.

Jan believes them until she doesn’t and later that night she’s necking back tequila like it’s water, cries because her petals still remain closed.

Crystal rubs her back whilst she sobs and Gigi doesn’t tell her about her opportunity to sing backing vocals on one of her favourite artists upcoming albums for fear of Jan’s leaves crumbling.

And they almost do.

She smiles her congratulations but she knows that her grin has never been more forced.

Nicky looks at her as if she sees right through her and Jan doesn’t blame her. She’s transparent, hollow, as if she’s being uprooted or trod on by a metal boot. Her vive is wilting day by day and everybody notices even if they don’t comment.

She throws herself back in to her work and it hurts but it’s the only way she knows how.

Back into being Jan who does well and back into what she adores. She sings like it’s her lifeline and comes out a rose, with thorns that keep her shielded. Her eyes become portals and her bones hold galaxies, dense under her skin.

She graduates at the top of her class and accepts her diploma with a smirk.

_“I didn’t think you’d do it”._

_“You and everybody else”._

_“But you did”._

*****

_“What’re you going to do when this is all over?”._

_“Who the fuck knows”._

_“Better start thinking”._

Jan doesn’t know how to navigate life outside of college when she reaches twenty two.

The world feels more like an entire universe and her stars are scattered light years apart.

Nicky is back in France and is busier than Jan thinks she could ever comprehend. Crystal is somewhere in Australia and Gigi is still in New York but Gigi is also Gigi and has little time for anything or anybody that isn’t herself.

Jan thinks that Gigi has every right to be that way.

They keep in vague contact through social media and friends of friends and the last Jan had heard she’d been ready to release her first solo album. The cover of it is etched into Jan’s mind and she sees it sometimes when she blinks too quickly, dares to imagine it as her own.

It feels like a cosmic injustice.

The planets aren’t aligning for Jan and she knows it.

She curses whatever one is in retrograde just for her and gets washed under by the tide of comets that keep knocking her back. She’s drowned out by girls who are prettier, younger, are able to sing better, and begins to think that postcards will remain postcards.

That her future will stay sunken at the bottom of her chest.

_“I have to go, I’m at fashion week”._

_“New York?”._

_“London”._

*****

_“You’re just not the right fit this time”._

_“Maybe next time, honey”._

_“You didn’t make the cut”._

Twenty three is a blur.

There are auditions and casting calls and interviews and trials.

But there’s also nothing.

Jan’s lungs fill will doubt and she feels like she’s drowning from the inside out.

She chokes on no’s that she hears day after day and splutters out distain into her sink with spit and toothpaste every morning and night. She watches it swirl down the drain as she checks her emails and fixates on the one speck of blood.

She’d been brushing too hard and trying too much.

There’s a single email that’s marked unread and she clicks on it whilst staring at her pin board.

A postcard from Nicky in Paris reminds her to breathe.

_“You have a talent”._

_“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”._

_“You just haven’t figured out what to do with it yet”._

*****

_“Jan? Come down to the office tomorrow, we have something for you”._

_“We think you’d be perfect”._

_“Congratulations”._

Jan starts to float again at twenty four.

She’s handed a buoy in the form of an opportunity, an opening at a small label and management to guide her.

They drag her to shore by the strands of her blonde hair that she dyes lilac sometime in October. It’s a week before she meets her manager and when she does Jan feels like she’s never going to sink again.

Because Jackie is a light, and Jan doesn’t think of her as a manager.

She’s a friend from the get go and offers up a support that Jan’s never had. She helps dry her off when she emerges from beneath the surface, makes her skin sun kissed golden and her face glow.

Jackie is tender with hair as dark as her eyes and heats Jan up like a crackling fire.

She’s a flame and Jan basks in it.

Jan begins to record her album that winter and Jackie sits with her in the studio after hours, encourages Jan when she swears that there’s something missing.

She knows that Jackie doesn’t understand what but she offers up suggestions like they’re candy and Jan lets herself enjoy the sweetness.

Jackie lays back on the couch and Jan watches her from the booth.

Her mouth mimics the way that Jackie sighs and the microphone picks up on it. It becomes what she had been unable to find and when Jackie shoots her a grin her album completes itself.

_“You’re a genius”._

_“What did I do?”._

_“Nothing at all”._

*****

_“Jan! You’re going to be late!”._

_“I’m coming!”._

_“Don’t forget your purse!”._

Twenty five and twenty six are a whirlwind of chaos that lack caution as much as they do substance.

Jan tours the country with her album and then Europe, too, finds herself somewhere in Asia and then Australia, South America, Canada.

Jackie guides her through airports along with security and and if Jan feels more protected by the five foot and a half woman than she does six foot men she says nothing.

She sells out arenas and hugs her fans tighter than she needs to at meet and greets. She signs so many posters that her wrist grows weak but it doesn’t stop her waving out to the crowd, knuckles blanching as they wrap around her mic.

Her voice wavers when she thinks about it too much, because it’s more than she’s ever wanted and more than she could have imagined when her lungs had been filled with concrete.

instead her future feels solidified, hand woven.

She has a savings account that isn’t empty like it once had been and it feels like an adult thing to admit to herself.

Jan makes a habit of calling her family once a week and Jackie listens in on them because she’s Jackie and Jan doesn’t think she’s ever seen her not being supportive.

Not being caring.

She lets jan cry to her after Jan goes on dates that end badly in England, one night stands in Spain.

Jackie brushes her fingers through Jan’s hair and kisses at her forehead, tells Jan that she is loved and that she is good.

Jan’s never been skilled at believing people but there’s a lilt to Jackie’s smile and she lets herself be fooled.

Jackie looks at her like she means it, and when they’re piling onto a tour bus the following night she reminds her with a cupcake that has a single pink candle pierced into the middle.

It’s Jan’s birthday.

_“Make a wish”._

_“I want a beer”._

_“You’re not suppose to say it out loud!”._

*****

_“Jacks, honey, come do shots with me!”._

_“I can’t feel my fingers already”._

_“Just one more shot?”._

Jan spends her twenty seventh birthday in a bar in downtown LA.

It’s unplanned and reckless, but she pushes her San Francisco show that’s in two days time to the back of her mind and enjoys the way that Jackie’s hips bump against her own.

Nicky has flown over from France, and is watching them from the corner of club, drink balanced precariously in hand.

She saunters towards them and the silver of her dress glints in the low light. Jackie’s hands grip tighter at Jan’s waist and Jan doesn’t know if it’s the vodka or simply Jackie but she wants her, has been wanting her in ways that she hasn’t ever wanted anybody.

Nicky is sly and the music is loud and Jan’s hands are threading into the lengths of Jackie’s hair.

Jackie’s eyes eclipse hers and Jan’s seeing every postcard city that they’ve visited together in them, each star that’s floated above them on nights where they’ve watched the sun rise from the other side.

They’re pools of warmth and Jan had never thought she’d be happy to be drowning again but if it’s in Jackie’s eyes then she’s ok with that.

Their lips meet and Jan wakes up the next morning with a headache that’s relentless, persistent.

They’re crammed into the small double bed of Jan’s tour bus and Jackie has Jan’s come smeared up her thigh. Jan grimaces and Jackie looks repulsed and it’s not what she had been expecting.

Jackie clambers out of the bed and clutches the duvet to her chest.

Jan is left gawking and doesn’t understand how her breath still smells like vodka and the bed is still warm but Jackie’s looking at her like she’s a mistake.

_“We shouldn’t do this”._

_“Jackie, come on”._

_“We can’t do this, Jan”_.

*****

_“Where the fuck is Jackie?!”._

_“I think she’s gone to get a coffee. What’s up?”._

_“She’s double booked me and I’m ‘gonna kill her”._

Jan feels her blood boiling and this time she’s drowning in rage.

Her nails dig into the palms of her hands and she paces impatiently, mumbles to herself while Jackie remains gone. Her drummer EJ reassures her with a timid smile and Jan bites back that she hopes the caffeine will wake Jackie up.

And maybe it’s uncalled for but Jan doesn’t care.

She reiterates that she hasn’t spent years working herself to the bone to disappoint fans, clients, hasn’t put her trust in Jackie and her abilities only for her to grab ahold of Jan, crumple her up and throw her into the trash with her organisation.

Jan feels more weathered than she should at twenty eight but the storms don’t give in and the thunder still rattles her ribs like all she’s ever known. Jackie strolls back into the venue ten minutes later and all animosity that Jan’s muscles had held disappears as soon as she sees her.

Jackie has one takeout coffee cup in each hand and offers one to Jan feebly.

She smiles, softly, and Jan is able to see the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Jan doesn’t want them to spill over like a dam and so she takes one, cradles it close to her chest.

As close as she wants to pull Jackie.

_“I’m sorry”._

_“Mistakes happen”._

_“Still, I’m sorry”._

*****

_“Are you bringing Jackie to the awards show?”._

_“I don’t think she’d want to come”._

_“Oh”._

Jan’s never shied away from being a queer woman, and she understands why when she’s set to headline an upcoming charity awards show.

She’s nominated in too many categories to recall but she knows just from hearsay and hushed whispers behind the scenes that she’s going to, has to win one.

If not all.

She wears her best dress and has a team of hair and makeup artists that take too long.

Her heels are the highest that she owns and she’s taller than some people for once but it doesn’t matter when the power imbalance between her and Jackie is still greater than it should be. She sends off a text to Jackie who she knows is at home in New York, in the same city, and doesn’t expect a response.

One only comes in the form of radio silence and Jan accepts it like she knows she deserves.

She performs with her heart and wins with her soul but there’s a missing piece and her name is Jackie.

Jan hugs her band and her team, kisses at their cheeks because it’s easy.

She breezes through the press interviews with her award in hand and pictures it on the mantle of her apartment. It’s a place that she hasn’t seen in a while and the longer she’s away the less it feels like home.

Because by twenty nine home becomes hotels and tour bus lounges, arena dressing rooms and darkened stages.

Home has already become a person, has become Jackie, and Jan sends a prayer to the sky that’s crumbling above her, one that wishes Jackie was staring back at her from behind the camera lenses.

_“I wish Jackie was here”._

_“She’ll be back on the bus tomorrow, don’t worry”._

_“It’s not the same”._

*****

_“It’s so nice to meet you, doll!”._

_“I’m such a huge fan!”._

_“You’re so cute! Let’s get a picture!”._

The meet and greet is almost over, and Jan is already excited for the next one when they’ll be in Jersey come the following day.

She signs a fans arm with permanent marker when she feels nothing but temporary and poses for an exaggerated prom style picture when she’s never been more lonely.

People roll in like dice and out again before Jan’s able to blink. Jackie is there too and she’s dyed her hair blonde but she stands on the sidelines like an extra when Jan longs for her to be the lead role.

There are arms wrapping around Jan’s waist and she’s being brought back to the moment by a girl wearing a shirt with her face on.

It’s a novelty that’s never worn off and she doubts it ever will but she stares herself directly in the eyes. The girls giggles about Jan being smaller in real life and Jan doesn’t hold back her laugh.

It’s loud, raucous, and it’s as honest as it always is. The girl leaves and a man enters and Jan doesn’t know where things go wrong.

There are more arms around her waist but all that she’s able to see is the mans black shirt. He smells like smoke and cider and Jan clears her throat as he grunts, hands her a picture of herself.

In the picture she’s clad in only a skirt and a shirt that she’d cropped herself and the mans smirk that he beats down on her is enough to make her understand. 

His hands travel lower, and Jan’s vision is blurry.

There’s shouting and commotion, but there are snakes suffocating her, hissing around her hips and spine and grappling at her thighs.

The mans breath is hot against her neck and Jan is frozen, unable to thaw. Security stand by idly until it’s too late but Jan’s eyes lock with Jackies and they plead, silently.

And then the arms are gone, and Jan is able to take in a gulp of air.

Jackie’s vibrating next to her and the security guards aren’t moving in slow motion anymore. There are demands and orders and ushering but Jan’s feet are glued to the floor. They only begin moving again when the arms around her are new yet familiar.

She’s bathed in perfume that smells like daisies and a blanket of freshly bleached hair.

_“Get him the fuck out of here”._

_“Shit”._

_“Don’t just stand there!”._

*****

_“Do you want a drink?”._

_“Do you have camomile?”._

_“Of course, baby”._

Jan doesn’t perform her show that night and it becomes the first that she’s cancelled since her career began.

It weighs heavy on her conscience but security are up in arms and Jackie hasn’t left her side. Jan lets herself cry and Jackie is still there, is inviting Jan back to her own apartment because they’re in New York and it feels natural.

Jackie welcomes her into the hallway and it smells like pine.

She guides Jan through to the kitchen and the walls are painted as warm as Jackie’s smile.

They’re silent as Jackie brews a cup of tea and sets it down on a wooden coaster. Jan wraps her hands around it and the same warmth that Jackie’s staring at her with floods the entirety of her body

Jan feels the flowers and the galaxies and the universe all flourish at once.

There’s a postcard picture of the statue of liberty on the side of the mug and she fixates on it as Jackie settles on the couch. Jan follows and is wrapped in a blanket made up of Jackie’s arms and Jackie’s apologies and Jackie’s lips that press against her temple.

She feels Jackie breathe in and Jan breathes out at the same time. Things are slotting together in the form of finality and it’s taken Jan thirty years to feel the adoration that Jackie gives her when she kisses her for the first time, again.

It’s tentative but she has it, and it’s all that matters.

Jan tells Jackie that the blonde hair suits her and Jackie laughs it off because Jan has never seen her accept a compliment.

It’s why Jan tells her again, and again, reminds her with a finger curled into the strands. Jackie’s smile is lit by the tv in the background and she asks Jan about all that she’s missed.

So Jan relives the past decade in detail until the sun is rising.

They drink their way through camomiles and peppermints and when they kiss at dawn it tastes like summer.

Jan takes a picture from Jackie’s bedroom window and they frame it when they buy a house in the country years later.

_“When did you take that?”._

_“A long time ago”._

_“We should frame it”._

**Author's Note:**

> im also on Tumblr @ janhytes


End file.
